


Hints of a Spark

by iseestars



Category: Naruto
Genre: 17 year old with a 23 year old, Arranged Marriage, Drinking, M/M, Underage Kissing, Verbal Fighting, rude inuzuka, underage marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iseestars/pseuds/iseestars
Summary: He joined his father at the edge of the forest. They stood in silence for a moment as they watched the ceremonial grounds fill with relatives and friends from both clans. Shikaku gave him a knowing side glance, his eyebrow raised. Without looking at him, his decorated son responded, “I hate him.”xxxShikaku continued, regardless, "It's about pleasing your husband."





	1. Reinventing Your Exit

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Reinventing Your Exit by Underoath (Painted Red: A String Quartet Tribute to Underoath)
> 
> Shikamaru is seventeen, Kiba is twenty-three.
> 
> Each chapter has a song associated with it (most of them are metal).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want to marry him."

Women of their clan were bustling around him, pulling his hair to knot it into the ceremonial antlers and painting his face to give him the appearance of a deer. He looked past himself in the mirror to where his mother stood. 

Normally, Yoshino’s head was held high and her eyes were harsh; now, her shoulders were slumped, her head bowed, and her averted eyes glistened with tears. Her long hair was curled away from her face, but she still tried to hide behind it. She looked embarrassed.

Shikamaru released a grunt when one of the women pulled too hard on his hair. He felt a few strands snap off at the root. He half-heartedly glared at the woman, but she surreptitiously ignored him. He looked back to his mother, who took a step closer to caress the ornaments and flowers that adorned the heavy antlers.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. Shikamaru furrowed his brows and tried to meet her eyes, but she would only look at his headdress. Some of the ornaments clinked together, filling the heavy silence with a melodic tinkling.

Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his. It was brief and unnerving, but he realized: she _was_ ashamed. Not of him, but of herself. She gave birth to a son that could inherit leadership of the clan, but she was never able to conceive a daughter that would seal the longstanding alliance with the Inuzuka clan.

As a woman focused to paint on his nose, he murmured, “Mom, it’s not—”

But then his father entered the small room, and immediately the dense silence became suffocating. Shikamaru averted his eyes, heard his father whisper to Yoshino, and then their son turned only to see his mother wiping her eyes as she rushed out of the room.

“You’re doing a service to your clan,” Shikaku told him. He rested a large hand on his son’s bony shoulder.

Shikamaru huffed, but said nothing.

The women turned their backs to him and started to pack away their things. He watched them in silence, wondering if they were jealous. Jealous because they were born into the wrong branches of the clan, never to be married to the main branches and achieve a high status. They wanted the status and the attention, to wear the ceremonial antlers, face paint, and robes; they all deserved it. But Shikamaru sat in all of their places, all of the _girl’s_ places, living up to a birthright that he didn’t want. He felt like he was stealing something from them – they spent their lives knowing that they’d be married to men of other clans, and every single one wanted to be chosen to seal the union with the Inuzuka.

“You should be proud,” his father said. Shikamaru wasn’t sure how many times he’d heard that over the past month. He stared at his hands resting in his lap as he fiddled with his fingers. “Lines of women wanted to take your place.”

His son rolled his eyes. He had seen young women of all ages coming to his father, offering their hand instead of Shikamaru’s. Even his cousin, in the sister branch to the main, was denied the opportunity. When she left their home with her father, she had tears on her cheeks when she glared at Shikamaru. They hadn’t spoken since. They had all assumed, since no girls were born to Shikaku and Yoshino, that she would fill the role.

“Let them,” he grumbled. The women were finished packing, acting as if they weren’t listening to the conversation. One of them motioned to the young man and he stood. She laid the ceremonial robes across his shoulders, then started to pull at the corseted back.

Shikaku regarded him with a flat expression. “My father and Tsume’s father agreed that our children would marry. The Hokage agrees that it will be beneficial for the whole village.”

“I’ve heard this enough,” Shikamaru complained. “Let Yashiku take my place. At least she wants it.” The breath in his body left him with a pained grunt as the woman lacing the robes pulled too tight. She was listening.

“Tensions are too high,” Shikaku explained. Shikamaru rolled his eyes. He’d heard this before, too. “The only way to keep peace in Konoha—”

“Is for a main branch marriage,” Shikamaru finished for him. He sighed heavily. “But what about his sister? Why couldn’t it be her?”

“You know that it was the Nara daughter and the Inuzuka son. That was the deal.” At his son’s silence, he continued. “The Inuzuka control the police force,” his father explained again. “You know this isn’t for us. It’s for Konoha.”

Shikamaru sighed heavily. The city needed both medicine from the Nara and protection from the Inuzuka, especially if other cities started to raise tensions. Their families coming together at the main branches would show an unwavering support for the city to the other clans. Even though his mother and father never had a daughter, the deal had been amended so that the branches could still come together; technically, Shikaku didn’t live up to his father’s part of the deal. His family was the one that would sacrifice.

The laces along the back of the robes were completed, so the last remaining woman bowed to Shikaku and begrudgingly to Shikamaru. She left, and the weighty silence returned.

Shikaku took a few steps and rested his hand on his son’s shoulder once more. “There’s an hour before sundown. Don’t be late.” What he didn’t say was, _Don’t ruin anything._

Shikamaru followed him out of the room, holding the edges of the robes against his knees, lest he trip or rip them. The corset was a touch too tight, so his back was forced to stay straight. He snuck out of the house, around the decorated grounds, and into the surrounding forest without being spotted.

He walked carefully for a few minutes until he could no longer see the clearing for the wedding. He relaxed as much as he could when he saw a familiar stag regard him from only a few feet away. It approached, head outstretched until it was close enough to nuzzle Shikamaru’s hand. The young man shifted the robes into one hand and used his free hand to scratch the chin of the deer.

Sadly, almost with regret, Shikamaru said, “Rikumaru.” The deer looked up at his name, knowledgeable eyes boring into his human companion’s.

Shikamaru raised Rikumaru since he was a young fawn; his mother had passed away giving birth. When he wasn’t in school, he would pass the time running and hiding with his friend. Shikamaru grew smarter, and Rikumaru silently grew wiser. Even the friends he trusted to bring into the private forests were impressed with the intelligent deer.

With knowing eyes, the clever stag gently tapped his antlers against the decorative ones his friend wore. Shikamaru released a sharp laugh, but it quickly turned into a sob. He quickly wiped his eyes, knowing that if he ruined the ceremonial paint then his father would kill him. For a second, he contemplated wiping his hand across his face.

Rikumaru had keen instincts, and he knew that his friend was hurting. He nuzzled his nose against the human’s ear, just like he had when Shikamaru had fallen and gotten hurt when he was a child. It seemed to work – the teenager laughed soflty and stroked the deer’s soft neck.

“I don’t want to marry him,” Shikamaru whispered.

Rikumaru nuzzled him again in response. Suddenly, his head shot up and his ears faced towards the distant entrance of the forest. Shikamaru looked as well, but he couldn’t see or hear like his friend. There was rustling a short distance away, and the deer took a hesitant step back. Shikamaru turned to glance at him, and as soon as he turned back, a large white dog jumped towards him.

He tripped and almost fell as he moved between the stag and the growling dog. Its shoulders reached above his hips, even as it hunched its back and crept towards them, its teeth bared. He’d heard stories about the large dogs, but he had never seen one this close.

Shikamaru made eye contact and held it, but he could feel his heart pound in his chest. There were no predators in this forest – it was private land belonging to the Nara clan, and they kept very close eyes on it. The dog took another step forward.

“Akamaru, down!” Shikamaru immediately looked up to see a young man older than himself coming towards him; three grey and white dogs followed closely. The man stopped right in front of Shikamaru, a cocky smirk resting easily on his lips, framed by two red fang tattoos. The white dog – Akamaru – still had his hackles raised.

The Nara boy scowled. “Call your mutt off.” The man just continued to smirk. Shikamaru put a protective hand on Rikumaru’s neck. His other hand was still gripping the edges of the dress. “You shouldn’t even be here. This is private land.”

“I’ll be part of the family in a couple of hours,” the man informed him casually. Dark eyes looked him over like a hungry wolf eyeing prey. “Don’t women in your clan bow to their husbands?”

Shikamaru recoiled. This man was _obviously_ an Inuzuka, but he didn’t realize it was _his_ Inuzuka. He looked down at himself, and he was glad for the make-up, because a blush started to burn his cheeks. He clenched his jaw until he regained his hard exterior. “I’m _not_ a woman. And you’re not my husband yet. You aren’t even supposed to see me before the wedding,” he scolded.

The Inuzuka – Kiba, he remembered – stepped up to Akamaru, shrugging nonchalantly. As he stroked down the canine’s body, the large dog finally calmed and nuzzled his owner’s side. Rikumaru snorted in contempt. “Your clan is so strict about everything. If it had been up to _my_ clan, we could already be fucking by now.”

Shikamaru scowled at his brashness. He looked up to the sky, and realized that he needed to get back to the wedding grounds. He ignored Kiba to sadly pat Rikumaru’s neck, and the deer slowly started to walk away. One of the dogs barked loudly, causing the deer to take off bounding through the forest. “Make sure they leave the deer alone,” Shikamaru warned his future husband.

“They won’t attack,” Kiba assured him. His smirk seemed to betray the promise in his words.

Shikamaru huffed and started to make his way around the group of dogs. Kiba’s arm came out and blocked him. “I’ll walk you back,” he offered. The four beasts moved to circle him.

“No,” the Nara demanded. “I don’t want you to.”

He tried to step around the other man, but Kiba stepped fully in front of him. He was taller than Shikamaru by only a few inches, but the Nara found himself having to look up to meet his eyes. “I thought marrying a man would be disappointing,” he said softly. Shikamaru bristled. Kiba reached a hand up to caress one of the ornaments. “But you’re fucking _beautiful_.” His hand trailed down to stroke Shikamaru’s painted cheek. The Nara moved his head away quickly.

“I have to get back,” Shikamaru said through grit teeth. “And I can’t be seen with you.” He started to walk away and Kiba finally let him go. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his betrothed wasn’t following him. The Inuzuka was standing still, watching him go, an arrogant smirk still on his lips. His hounds surrounded him on all sides.

The Nara made the short walk, careful still to not drop the hem of his dress. Just as he was about to reach his awaiting father, he looked once more for Rikumaru. If the deer was close by, he was hiding.

He joined his father at the edge of the forest. They stood in silence for a moment as they watched the ceremonial grounds fill with relatives and friends from both clans. Shikaku gave him a knowing side glance, his eyebrow raised.

Without looking at him, his decorated son responded, “I hate him.”

xxx

At the reception and after he finished his own bottle of wine, Shikamaru was hanging off of his friends as they danced to music. He had never drank enough to get drunk, but the wine was smooth and it almost made him forget _why_ they were celebrating.

He was spinning around with Ino, laughing loudly as they were both drunkenly out of step. His friend Chouji intercepted him, and they laughed even harder because Chouji held a kebab firmly in his hand.

He was pulled sharply, then, against an unfamiliar toned chest. “I think it’s my turn to dance with my bride.” _Kiba_ , he thought with disgust.

“Get off,” Shikamaru whined. His brain felt cloudy, and his tongue felt like a stone in his mouth. He tried to pull away, but Kiba wasn’t nearly as drunk; he easily overpowered the Nara. He held his wife close and pulled him in tight circles. Shikamaru huffed and winced, still using any strength he had to push himself away.

Kiba held him tighter and leaned in to his ear. He knew that all eyes were on them, so he whispered as quietly as he could, “If you’re good, I’ll give you a treat.”

Shikamaru grunted and finally found the strength to push his husband away. In his drunkenness he lost his balance, however, and was sent reeling, falling onto the grass. “You’re disgusting,” he spat. A hushed gasp passed through the party as everyone was watching this unfold – even the music had stopped. “You think I’m going to be _good_? For a _treat_? I’m not one of your _dogs_.”

Akamaru had slunk to his master’s side, where he growled softly; Kiba stroked his soft fur. He was frowning and his eyes had anger boiling behind them. They stared hard at each other – the Inuzuka glared down, and the Nara glowered from the ground.

Shikamaru’s chest heaved as alcohol and rage coursed through his body. Kiba scowled for a moment longer before he turned with a growl and started to walk back to the main table.

The Nara bride smirked in what he thought was a victory until he was roughly lifted by his bicep. It was his father, who looked severely unpleased. He started to pull his son through the party, away from his friends and family. Even in his haze, Shikamaru was embarrassed – he could feel everyone’s eyes following him in a suffocating silence.

Just before his father dragged him into the guest house at the other end of the ceremonial grounds, he turned to look at the forest one last time. He didn’t see Rikumaru, but he saw a bush get disturbed; his friend was watching.

He was shoved inside and into the bedroom. His father pushed him towards the bed, where he fell to sit on the edge like a petulant child. He watched his father as he stood in the doorway, facing away from him. He was still so angry at the situation, but he knew that he had embarrassed his family, and for that he felt guilt.

“Dad, I—” He wanted to apologize, but he was cut off.

“Enough,” his father sighed. “Some day you will realize that your duty to your clan – to your _village_ – is more important than your feelings.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but a soft voice interrupted him. “Shikaku?” Shikamaru looked up to see his mother in the doorway. Her voice was usually so stern and demanding. Now, it was gentle and dejected. “Lady Tsume would like to speak with you.”

He exhaled heavily and looked back to his son. He squeezed his wife’s arm before stepping away. Yoshino didn’t move from the doorway until the front door to the small house had closed, but once it did, she motioned for her son to sit at the vanity. He obeyed, and looked at her in the mirror; she wouldn’t meet his eyes as she set to work disentangling his hair from the antlers. 

Shikamaru moved so that his shoulders were slouched and he was holding his head up with his hands. He closed his eyes, but felt like his body was spinning. He opened them again and stared blankly at his reflection. He noticed that the face paint was smudged on his lips from the sealing kiss with Kiba and the bottle he drank from. He wasn’t sure if his stomach turned from the thought of his husband or the alcohol.

After a long silence broken only by the ornaments clinking together, she finally asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” her son said softly.

Yoshino huffed at him. “You shouldn’t have drank so much.” She pulled too roughly on a strand of tangled hair, so her son winced. At least her normal sternness had returned. Or maybe it was an act – her son couldn’t tell. “You put on quite a show,” she observed in a clipped voice.

Shikamaru groaned. “I know, mom.” There was silence, and as he glanced up in the mirror, he finally saw her familiar eyes finally looking back. They were unsympathetic and unrelenting. He had to look away first. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His chin quivered and a tear escaped his eye despite his best efforts. He wiped it away quickly, but more followed, creating ugly streaks in the make-up.

Yoshino continued with her actions for only a minute more, her skilled hands finally removing the antlers from his hair. She set them on the vanity, then started to pull Shikamaru’s hair into a ponytail like she did when he was too young to do it himself.

She turned him slowly so that she could kneel beside him as she used a wet rag to wipe away the face paint and tears as he sniffled quietly. “I know you didn’t want to marry him,” she said, and it was tender and soft again, because she was a _mother_ and her baby boy was hurting. She couldn’t keep her hard façade forever. “When I married your father, I was so scared and I felt betrayed because I was being _given_ to a man like cattle. But I ended up loving him.” She pushed her son’s face up with her finger, and smiled when their eyes met. “ I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a sister to take your place. But I hope that you find that same love with Kiba.”

She pulled him into a tight embrace in a way that only a mother could. His soft sniffling turned into painful sobs against her chest as he clenched his fists in the back of her dress. He was only seventeen, but he felt like a small child again, going to his mother when he was hurt or scared.

Shikamaru shook his head and pressed it harder against her. “It’s not your fault,” he sobbed. “I just—mom, what do I do? What will people say?”

His mother pushed him away and held him at arms length, her hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise. She was firm again when she said, “Shikamaru, do not _ever_ let anyone make you feel less about yourself, do you understand me? You are not who – or _what gender_ – you are married to. You are Shikamaru Nara, heir to the Nara clan. You are strong and brilliant.” She paused to soften her voice and smile again. “It does not matter what _anyone_ says about you. As long as you are doing what you know is right, then all that matters is what _you_ think. And today, you did something bigger than yourself – you strengthened your clan and your village. Your father and I are so proud of you, and you should feel the same about yourself.”

She relaxed her grip on him to swipe her thumbs under his eyes. “Now stop your crying,” she murmured. “You don’t want your new husband to see.”

Shikamaru nodded in compliance, even as he sniffled faintly and leaned into his mother’s touch. “I don’t know how to be a wife,” he muttered. As if she had lived in denial of what was going to happen to her son, Yoshino had never formally taught Shikamaru etiquette of Nara women, even though Shikaku had prodded her to do so. _I want him to have a normal childhood_ , she had told her husband.

“It’s not something you _know_ ,” Yoshino informed him. “It’s something you _learn_. You know the courtesies from seeing the Nara women all your life. Do the things you know, and then learn what your husband likes.” She smiled again; her face was so warm and calming. “You’re so smart, Shikamaru. Being married to a man might be difficult at first, but I trust that you can make it work.”

Shikamaru smiled at his mother. “Thank you, mom.”

They both started as someone entered the room. When they turned, Kiba was watching them from the doorway, his trademark smirk across his lips. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, but he made no move to leave the room – his dog had even made himself at home by lying against the side of the bed.

“Not at all,” Yoshino said quickly, giving one last glance to her son. “I was just leaving.” She pushed herself to her feet, bowed respectfully at the Inuzuka, and made her way gracefully past him, out of the room and then the guest house.

A pregnant silence settled over the small house and seemed to smother the room. Even Akamaru felt it as he whined ever so faintly. Kiba leaned down to stroke the fur over his belly, whispering to him. He was so gentle, and Shikamaru found himself wondering where this softness came from – at their first meeting and the reception, he had been so arrogant. Their whole family was involved with police and raising dogs to help them – where did this come from? Did he put on an act in front of his friends and family? Could all of the Inuzukas be this kind?

Shikamaru averted his eyes when his husband caught him staring. A warm blush settled over his cheeks; his feeling of sickness had faded, but his heart still beat quickly in his chest.

“Hey,” Kiba asked kindly, “can I help you?” When his wife looked to him with confusion, he motioned to his own back; Shikamaru twisted a hand to his shoulders. When his fingertips met the laces of the dress, he became even redder. He and his mother had both forgotten about the dress.

The Nara found himself lost for words. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Kiba looked at him expectantly, a smile hiding behind his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing to his new wife.

Finally, Shikamaru nodded his head, turning his back to the Inuzuka. Kiba kneeled behind him, skilled fingers working to loosen the tight laces. When the dress was almost untied, Shikamaru let out a _whoosh_ of air that he didn’t know he was being forced to hold.

“Stand up,” Kiba murmured next to his ear. The Nara hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten; a confusing shiver ran down his spine. _Where did that come from?_

He obeyed the order, but when the dress slipped from his hips, he found himself crossing his arms over his chest; he suddenly became painfully aware of his thin – almost feminine – body. He’d never been sensitive about his body, but now…in the mirror, he saw the dark lashes that framed his mother’s eyes, the sharp curves of his face, the outline of his ribs, and his sharp hip bones.

He felt hands caress his thighs at the bottom of his briefs, and the sudden touch made him jump. “Sorry,” Kiba apologized, but his hands stayed, convincing Shikamaru to turn and face him.

The Nara couldn’t meet his piercing eyes, so he stared at the floor. He’d never been so exposed in front of someone, and he’d never had someone touch him like this. His breath hitched, and he tightened his arms across his chest.

“It’s alright,” Kiba muttered huskily. He reached up to gently pull his wife’s wrists so he could see his whole body. He didn’t miss how Shikamaru’s pale skin flushed to a deep rose hue. He smirked when he said, “I meant what I told you earlier. You’re _gorgeous_.”

He stood slowly, letting his fingertips trace the slim body in front of him. He felt Shikamaru shudder and reveled in it; he leaned close and placed a soft kiss against his wife’s cheek. When he pulled back, the Nara’s eyes were glassy, filled with curiosity and…lust wasn’t the right word. _Want_ , maybe.

Kiba took a step back and motioned towards the bed. “It’s been a long day, why don’t you lay down?” He followed his own advice by laying down on the small lounge at the end of the bed. He stretched his whole body with a yawn, and laughed softly when Akamaru crawled lazily on top of him.

Shikamaru silently made his way to the plush bed and crawled under the warm covers. He didn’t even realize how tired he was until his head hit the pillow and fell asleep almost instantly.


	2. Let It In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's not about creating an heir. It's about pleasing your husband."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Let It In by Dream On Dreamer
> 
> IT'S BEEN OVER A YEAR I FEEL LIKE THE WORST PERSON EVER. I've had so much go on with finishing school, getting a job, and I've barely had any time to myself the past couple of months! ;_; I've been on a huge metal kick and just got so inspired to keep writing this! I promise the updates will be MUCH more frequent!
> 
> Each chapter has a song associated with it (again, it's mainly metal) and I hope you guys like it! I really hope this chapter was worth the wait!

_There's something that I can't admit  
I see you and I let it in_

Three weeks after the marriage, his father glared at him from across the Shogi board. Ignoring him, Shikamaru moved a tile. Shikaku made his move – his son had lost. The young Nara yawned, sliding his hands behind his head.

“Why haven’t you sealed your marriage yet?” Shikaku’s voice growled deep in his throat. He crossed his arms over his chest and a scowl settled over his features. Until Kiba and Shikamaru consummated their marriage, Shikamaru couldn’t be left without supervision. That meant that, when Kiba was at work, the Nara spent time with his parents.

Shikamaru heaved a dramatic sigh. “Haven’t really had time,” was all he said. _And I enjoy being home_ , is what he didn’t say.

“You’ve had more than enough time,” his father argued. There was a thick silence in which Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like—”

Shikaku interrupted him, “It’s not about creating an _heir_.” They’d had this conversation multiple times since the wedding. “It’s about—”

“Don’t say it,” Shikamaru whined.

Shikaku continued, regardless, “—pleasing your husband.” His son groaned and hunched his shoulders, staring blankly at the ceiling as his father went on about his _duty as a wife_.

A new voice interrupted the Nara leader. “He’s a good wife,” Kiba stated, the familiar smirk resting on his lips. He was still wearing his uniform, and even his begrudging wife had to admit that he was handsome. Shikaku stood and bowed politely, quickly glaring at his son to do the same.

Shikamaru lazily rose to his feet and gave a sloppy bow. He thought his father was going to grind his teeth down his gums. He grinned at the thought.

“I’m glad you’re so happy to see me,” Kiba taunted, and the young Nara dropped his smile back into his usual bored expression. “Let your father and I talk for a minute, sweetheart.”

Shikamaru opened his mouth to protest his leaving and the new nickname Kiba had given him, but Shikaku beat him to speaking. “Your mother needs help in the kitchen.”

As he scuffed his feet past his husband, Kiba grabbed his arm. “We won’t be long,” he promised. He placed a wet kiss on his cheek; _just like a dog_ , Shikamaru thought. Shikamaru felt his husband’s eyes rake over his body as he retreated, slamming the sliding door as hard as he could without breaking it.

His mother was almost finished setting the table with dinner; she motioned for him to sit. He trudged over, and as soon as he had crossed his legs, his mother gave him a sharp slap to the back of his neck.

“Stop acting so insolent,” she scolded through clenched teeth. “It’s time for you to accept your responsibility. You’re too old to be acting like a child.”

Shikamaru grumbled under his breath, rubbing his stinging skin. He was in no mood to have the same conversation he’d had since he was married. _I don’t want this._

Just as Yoshino finished her task, the two men entered from the patio. Kiba held his hand to his wife; Shikamaru ignored it and pushed himself up to stand. Ignoring him, the Inuzuka turned back to the Nara leader. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll be taking my wife to dinner tonight.”

Shikaku nodded, waving dismissively at Yoshino’s momentary look of confusion. Usually, when Kiba worked, the two young men would join the Nara family for dinner.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes, but he refused to give Kiba the satisfaction of saying anything. His husband kindly excused the two, and they left, the young boy sending one pleading look back to his mother. She returned a look that said, _Do what you have to._

Akamaru was waiting on the front lawn, lazing in the evening sun. He rose to his feet and nuzzled Shikamaru’s hand before going on to his owner; the Nara wiped his hand free of the slobber.

xXx

The walk to Kiba’s restaurant of choice passed without conversation. In private, his husband was kind and gentle. That was the reason they hadn’t consummated their marriage – Kiba said he’d wait until Shikamaru was ready. They didn’t even sleep in the same bed. Since their wedding night, Kiba hadn’t seen his wife with anything less than pants on. Because of their actions, or lack thereof, the treaty was effectively at a stand-still.

The Inuzuka still complimented Shikamaru like he did on their wedding night, often calling him _beautiful_ and _gorgeous_. He wasn’t blind and he could see that he was lucky that this man was so handsome. But Shikamaru was still hesitant around his husband – in public he was aggressive and vulgar.

Kiba rested his head in one hand as the waitress dropped off a bottle of sake and two glasses. He poured himself and then his wife a glass, sliding it over to him silently. Shikamaru raised his hand to push it back, but Kiba’s words made him hesitate. “Drink it,” he murmured softly. Their booth was hidden in the back of the restaurant, so he didn’t have to put on a show. “We need to talk.”

Without meeting his eyes, Kiba swallowed his glass in a few harsh gulps and began to pour himself another. Shikamaru sipped gently at his glass; alocohol still turned his stomach since the wedding.

They said nothing for a few minutes, and the Nara felt suffocated by the silence. He finished his glass, and his husband filled it without being prompted. Akamaru whined gently from under the table, uneasy at the uncomfortable silence.

Kiba spun his glass slowly, his eyes focused on it. “We have to…” He motioned his hand between them. He didn’t want to have to say it. He opted for, “You know,” instead.

Shikamaru winced and chugged the rest of his glass. Kiba filled it again. “I’m not,” he started, but words caught in his throat. His head was spinning, but it wasn’t from the alcohol. “I’m not ready,” he finally managed.

“I know,” Kiba sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp. “I just…my mother and your father are demanding it. And I’m running out of excuses.”

His husband had used any excuse he could find – the move had worn them both out, Shikamaru was still adjusting to the Inuzuka side of Konoha, Kiba was tired most nights after work or Shikamaru was tired after helping with the deer. They were all half-hearted excuses and their parents knew it. Tsume ridiculed Kiba any chance she got, even in front of his wife. “Be a man,” she’d mocked. “He’s yours. Make him know it.”

Shikamaru grimaced and felt tears burning his eyes. He’d known this would eventually come. He chest heaved with the effort to keep his emotions at bay. “Maybe…we could…you could…”

“No more maybe’s,” Kiba whispered, and it was the end of the conversation. “No more excuses. I have the next couple of days off. We’re going to figure this out.”

Shikamaru’s lip quivered, betraying his attempt at keeping a neutral face.

Kiba exhaled, “Please don’t cry, you’re too beautiful.”

The Nara’s throat was thick and he started to sniffle as a single tear ran down his cheek. The Inuzuka reached across the table and ran his thumb across his wife’s hand that was gripping his glass like it was a lifeline. Shikamaru yanked his hand away; he made fists under the table, trying to focus on the pain of his fingernails biting into his palms.

Kiba finished his glass of sake, threw some bills on the table, and then stood. “Let’s go home,” he murmured. He offered his hand, but his wife ignored it and charged out of the restaurant.

The Inuzuka stormed after him with Akamaru on his heels, easily catching up and pinning the smaller man to the wall outside. “Stop,” he hissed. As they passed, people stared at them. Kiba held his wife’s biceps roughly, feeling his frustration rising quickly. He took a deep breath and, surprising his wife, wrapped his arms tightly around the slender body.

Shikamaru froze; the only times Kiba had held him were with punishing grips when he was around his friends. This was different, an attempt to comfort. His heart thudded against his ribs and he feared his husband would feel it resonating through his chest. His head spun severely from the surging emotions mixing with the glasses of sake. His arms hung lamely at his sides as his knees trembled and he wondered if he’d be able to stand on his own. His chest felt as if something was constricting it, compressing until he was left gasping for breath and falling into his husband’s strong arms.

Kiba barely stumbled at the effort of keeping his wife standing – he shifted one arm to support the small boy under his arm. “You’re alright,” he murmured. “You’re having a panic attack, it’ll pass. Just breathe.” He used his free hand to stoke the Nara’s sharp cheekbones.

Shikamaru felt fur brush his fingers, and he took the hint to lean against Akamaru while Kiba turned quickly and squatted down. He was about to protest, but his husband shook his head.

“We need to get home,” Kiba pressed. “You need to focus on breathing.”

He attempted to take a calming breath and it shuddered through his chest. He slowly straddled his husband’s back and ignored the sense of embarrassment as he was carried. As if it was possible, his burning skin flushed a darker red as Kiba’s strong hands supported his thighs.

Shikamaru listened to his heart pound in his ears the entire way home.

xXx

Kiba ran a bath for Shikamaru and closed the bathroom door behind him, leaving the Nara boy alone. It hadn’t taken long for Shikamaru’s breathing to return to normal, but he couldn’t stop the feeling of a stone lodged in his throat; he still cried softly as he lowered himself into the heated water.

He held his breath and sunk below the water, feeling his hair float freely around him. He was overcome with memories from his childhood, of wading in the shallow rivers with Rikamaru splashing behind him. He missed his animal companion, _all_ of his companions.

Since the wedding, he’d seen his friends on rare instances when they would visit the Nara area of the town. Chouji visited with a plate of warm food from his family’s restaurant for lunch – Shikamaru had happily offered to share. Ino had come to pick flowers that only grew in the forest; the Nara heir had sat and plucked the delicate roots from the earth with her. Naruto and Sakura had come together with ramen in hand for lunch on a rainy day. Naruto complained about how hard training for the police academy was while competing with someone who could do no wrong, while Sakura bragged about dating the same person. As his life was thrown into disarray, his friends’ lives continued as normal.

When his lungs were begging for air, he breached the surface and took deep, calming breaths. The drunkenness he had felt had begun to fade; he felt in control of his body again. He finished his bath, wrapped himself in a towel, and cracked the door open. Kiba was playing a video game, laughing and talking into a headset.

Shikamaru snuck into the bedroom, silently shut the door, and picked up the phone. He needed to talk to someone who wasn’t affected by the treaty, someone who the marriage didn’t matter to.

“Hello?” Ino’s bored voice came over the line.

“Hey,” the Nara boy said softly.

“Shikamaru! How are you?” Her voice instantly perked up and she sounded legitimately interested.

“Well, not good,” he admitted. He explained to her the pressure from their families, and what had happened this afternoon. “What do I do?”

She sighed, and he knew it hurt her to know he was aching. “You have to do what you know is right. Kiba seems to be different around you – sit and talk to him, and just try to keep calm. Remember, he’s under just as much pressure as you are.” She paused. “Do you think he loves you?”

His breath caught in his throat. “I don’t know…how do you love someone you just met?”

“Your parents did – don’t worry. Just give him a chance.” She sounded like she was tapping a pen against a table. “You should take it slow. I mean, not too slow that you irritate your parents any more, but slow enough that you can both get to know each other.”

Shikamaru hummed in defeated agreement. “Thanks, Ino. I’ll talk to you later.”

She said her goodbye and they hung up. He wanted to tell himself that Ino had made him feel better, but he found that her words were true enough to make his heart start to pound all over again.

He busied himself with picking up his laundry from the bathroom and Kiba’s from the bedroom, tossing a load into the washing machine. He was _not_ avoiding talking to his husband.

He wasn’t paying attention when he was walking from the laundry room and ran directly into Kiba. The Inuzuka laughed and steadied his wife. With his free hand he held out a cup of instant ramen.

“We haven’t had dinner,” he explained. His eyes glimmered with laughter and happiness.

Begrudgingly, Shikamaru accepted the offering and grabbed the offered set of chopsticks. He wasn’t hungry, but he was going to take Ino’s advice to try harder. They sat in uncomfortable silence, broken only by Kiba slurping his noodles out of his own cup.

He must have noticed Shikamaru just pushing the noodles around, because he said, “I’m not much of a cook.”

“It’s fine,” the younger man muttered.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Kiba observed. “I don’t…I don’t want you to be hurting. It’s the last thing I want. And I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” He took a breath. “I didn’t mean to freak you out today.”

His wife shrugged one shoulder.

The sun was just beginning to set, but Kiba was unable to control a yawn from escaping. “We can talk tomorrow, if you want,” he offered. Shikamaru shrugged again, but didn’t meet his eyes. He knew they they had to. It wasn’t an option anymore. Kiba motioned to Akamaru, and they made their way to the couch. The Inuzuka stretched his arms up until his back arched with the effort.

Shikamaru watched and, with a deep breath, he abandoned his cooling food and stood in the entrance to the hallway that led to the bedroom. His heart battered against his ribs and his body shook. Stop panicking, he told himself. He tried to take a calming breath.

“Kiba,” he said softly. He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard how his own voice shook.

His husband looked back over the arm of the couch, propping himself up on one elbow when he saw how uneasy his wife looked. Akamaru raised his head, too, tilting it to the side. “You ok?”

“I think…” Shikamaru inhaled, then exhaled, “I think you should come to bed.”

Kiba smiled softly. “I’m fine on the couch. I don’t want to kick you out of bed.”

His wife motioned between the two of them lamely. “I meant…”

“Oh.” Kiba stood quickly. “ _Oh_. Yeah, yeah.”

He followed the Nara into the bedroom. “Akamaru, stay on the couch,” Kiba called, and he shut the door quietly behind him. Shikamaru was sitting on the far side of the bed, clothed only in his boxer briefs. The Inuzuka swallowed thickly; he would only wait until his wife was ready, but _fuck_ he was sexy. And he hadn’t seen him this exposed since their wedding night. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

Kiba crawled under the sheets he had yet to lay under, leaning on one arm and watching his wife. Shikamaru was still shaking and his breath came in short gasps; he was in the fetal position, arms holding his legs tightly to his chest.

The older man had never been so enthralled with another person, especially one so agitated. From the moment he saw him in the forest, even though he was showing off for his friends, he knew he wanted to be with this…not quite a man, but still not a boy. The past three weeks had been torture between trying to impress his friends and trying to get his wife to let him in. However, when he thought about it, they barely spoke at all. They walked to and from the Nara’s complex in silence, they did different things in the afternoons, and Kiba knew he was an ass to this gentle boy when his friends were over. He thought the best way was to let his wife do what he wanted.

And now Shikamaru was making an effort, petrified though he was. Kiba hesitated for a millisecond before he reached forward and skimmed his fingers up his wife’s spine, watched how goose bumps formed in their wake. He left his hand on the bony shoulder and smoothly pulled back toward himself.

“Why don’t you lay down,” he coaxed.

Shikamaru jumped and nodded, more to himself. He crawled purposefully under the covers and stared straight up at the ceiling. His chest hurt from how long his heart had been pounding.

“You don’t sleep on your back,” Kiba observed. Of course he’d know. He woke up early and would rouse his wife to get ready every day.

Shikamaru turned himself with shaky arms, turning onto his left side so he was facing his husband. Kiba smiled gently and snuggled into the heavy covers, facing his wife on his right side. Their faces were barely inches apart; they were breathing the same air.

Kiba shuffled his hand out from under the covers and stroked his wife’s cheek with his thumb. Shikamaru could feel the Inuzuka’s piercing eyes searching him.

The older man finally couldn’t take it any more. This was the most intimate position they’d been in since marrying – since _meeting_. “Can I kiss you?”

Shikamaru thought of every time Kiba had kissed him: his face had been held still at their wedding as Kiba forced his tongue into his mouth. His lip was bitten when he’d try to pull away from Kiba in front of his friends. In front of their families, Kiba always planted sloppy kisses on his cheeks.

But they were alone. His husband was kind. Without raising his eyes to look at him, Shikamaru nodded once.

His breath stopped in his chest when soft lips enveloped his. Kiba was tender and ran his lips unhurriedly, methodically over his wife’s. They laid like that for what felt like hours, languidly kissing. At some point, Kiba slid his hand from his wife’s face and glided the tips of his fingers up and down Shikamaru’s arm.

The Nara boy felt like he was outside of his own body. He felt like he’d never get enough of this, never get enough of Kiba’s lips moving against his.

Something wet brushed his lip. He paused; the older man stopped and returned to his previous movements like nothing had happened. _This is different_ , Shikamaru thought to himself forcefully.

When it came again, testing the water, Shikamaru opened his mouth just a hair. His husband’s tongue was warm and wet as it slid between his lips. Kiba hungrily licked behind his teeth, still slow, and when the Nara tentatively flicked his tongue to meet his husband’s, the Inuzuka chuckled deep in his throat.

Shikamaru pulled away first; he licked his lips, relishing the taste of his husband lingering over his mouth. He risked a glance at Kiba, who had snuggled deeper into the soft bed. The younger boy felt bad for keeping him so far away for so long.

How long would it stay like this? Until Kiba had friends over? Maybe the games would stop, and his husband could be like this more often.

As if he could hear the thoughts competing through his wife’s head, Kiba wrapped a strong arm around his waist and pulled him in close against his body.

For less than a second Shikamaru tensed, but the embrace was warm and comforting. He made himself comfortable, breathing in the scent of his husband.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any questions, please feel free to comment, and I'll be glad to answer them to the best of my ability! Critiques are also welcomed! Comments are appreciated!


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